Peace
by isaytoodlepip
Summary: Tough summer for Harry after 4th year Warning: Child Abuse
1. Default Chapter

"Please, please don't ****

A/N: This story contains child abuse, so be warned. Also, anyone out there that's waiting for more So It Begins, have patience! College finals are no fun, but I'll be moving back home within a week and I promise to get the next chapter out soon. Regarding this story, there will probably be a second part, if I get a enough reviews :P

"Please, please don't." Harry can't remember when he'd been reduced to begging. The first few weeks, he'd managed to keep a straight face, to even avoid crying out in pain. But that only made Vernon Dursley hit harder. And pleading for him to stop now only made him laugh, but Harry continued, hoping someone, anyone, would hear. But then, it was his own fault. Voldemort had regained his power a month before and after receiving updates from Hermione and her subscription to The Daily Prophet about new Death Eater uprisings, mysterious disappearances and deaths, combined with continued nightmares about Cedric Diggory's lifeless eyes, about his parents, ghosts, all dead for him; all these things and it was bound to happen. Uncle Vernon made some remarks about the uselessness of wizard life and Harry snapped, welling at him to shut his mouth. Vernon then shut Harry's mouth with a swift backhand and let it be. From that day on, he didn't need another excuse. Harry had simply walked down the stairs before he found himself bleeding from the blow, hitting the back of his head on the floor, hearing his glasses crack, hearing his ribs crack, hearing himself saying, "Please don't." But his uncle was off and running, muttering something about stampeding down the stairs, while kicking Harry's side a bit harder. It didn't matter that he hadn't been fed in a few days, Harry still found something to throw up, causing Vernon to shriek about the new rug and pick Harry up off the floor so he could get more punches in. Harry didn't mean to fall forward. He would have preferred falling back, knocking his head against the wall hard enough to let him pass out, sleep without dreams for once. But he did fall forward, spewing blood onto Vernon Dursley's new suit. "You fucking bastard!" Dursley shouted. "I have to be at work in an hour! You best pray I'm not late because of this, or you'll be dead when I get home," he snarled, slamming Harry's head into the wall, leaving a spot of blood there and giving The Boy Who Lived a cherished painless sleep.

Why couldn't he tell anyone? Hermione, Ron and Sirius were always writing, asking how he was, how the Muggles were treating him. "Like shit," Harry wanted to write, but his quill always came up with something else, something safer. And why didn't Harry fight back? Harry's faced worse before and, even without a wand, he'd once defended himself against the verbal attacks of his Aunt Marge by inflating her to zeppelin proportions. So why hadn't he lost control of his emotions when Uncle Vernon beat him? Why always this resigned acceptance? Because, as irrational as he knew it was, Harry thought he somehow deserved it. Maybe even liked it. The more damaged he was on the outside, the less he felt on the inside. Besides, he didn't want any help. He didn't want anyone to save him. His parents had saved him, and look where it got them. No, Harry could survive this just as he'd survived worse and no one need ever know. So, lying there on the floor, just before he passed out, Harry Potter wished himself a happy birthday and hoped his uncle would at least trip over him on his way out the door.

"Ron, what's the time?" asked Mrs. Weasley, putting the finishing touch on the cake.

"Nearly nine, so Harry's uncle should be out of the house by the time we get there." Ron Weasley answered, sneaking in a spoonful of icing when his mother turned her back.

"Did you – don't touch that icing! – pack the presents in the trunk?"

"Yes Mum, and owled Hermione's that we'd be there by ten, so we better go."

Mrs. Weasley had been planning Harry's surprise birthday party for two weeks. _Poor boy needs something to take his mind of the tournament_. So she had arranged a rather large get-together at Hermione Granger's house, mainly so Sirius Black could attend (people in Hermione's Muggle neighborhood had long since forgotten the news of Black's felon status, whereas the wizard world was more keen than ever to get hold of Voldemort's supposed right hand man). Once Ron, Ginny and the twins were corralled by Mr. Weasley into their borrowed Ministry car, the Weasley clan was off to borrow Harry from the Muggles and deliver him to people who actually cared for the boy.

"Shh! Are the Muggles gone?"

"I think so. The aunt and piggy-boy must have left for something."

"Well, let's be quiet anyway. I'd rather not have a confrontation with them if I can help it."

"Ah, come one Dad, you know you want to."

"Well -,"

"Arthur!"

"Of course not, Fred. _Alohomora!_"

"I'll go check his room…My God, Harry! Mum!"

"Great Ghosts, Harry! Wake up!"

"Oh no, what happened to him?"

"Maybe he fell down the stairs?"

"Arthur, help, do something…Harry."

"_Ennervate!_"

Harry awoke and saw he was surrounded by fire. No, his glasses had fallen off. The Weasleys. Of course, it's the hair. He made to sit up but couldn't lift his face more than an inch off the ground. Mr. Weaslet made to help him, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him up to his knees. The pressure on his abdomen was too much and soon Harry was coughing up a great quantity of blood, bile, and one molar. "Bloody hell," was all he could moan, before passing out again.

Where was he? From the voices he heard, he'd guess he was under water. That would explain the heaviness around him, his gasps for breath. He ought to open his eyes, the voices sound so frightened. He could probably help them. But all he wanted to do was to listen, remember what it was like to hear concern.

"We should take him to St. Mungo's."

"They'd have to come here, Molly. We shouldn't move him that far like this. Besides, I want Sirius to have the chance to see him before we go. They don't let dogs in the hospital."

"How long until he gets here?"

"Minutes I'd say. The party was due to start at ten, and some of the kids are already here."

"Dad, don't you think Sirius will, well, kill him?"

"Ron, we don't know that's what happened."

"Arthur, look at the boy's face! You don't get injuries like that from falling down some stairs."

"I doubt we're seeing all of his injuries actually."

"Well, his face looks bad enough for me."

"Shh, Ron, he's waking up! Harry?"

"Ugh. Where are we?" he mumbled, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. 

"My house. Surprise! Happy Birthday!" Hermione whispered, barely holding back her tears.

"You all threw me a birthday party?" Harry asked. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

"Harry, what happened?" Mr. Weasley asked, trying to say it sternly enough to get Harry's focus away from some silly party. 

"I'm sorry, I've gone and ruined it," Harry said, looking at all the Weasleys and seeing the sadness in their faces. They must have put a lot of work into this party and Harry was sucking the fun out of it.

"Of course you didn't ruin it dear," said Molly Weasley. "Oh, Harry, what happened?"

"Who else is here?" Harry asked. Why did they keep asking him that question? He hadn't done anything, had he?

Mr. Weasley was about to say something when the doorbell rang. "Moll, let's see who it is," he sighed, leaving the children in Hermione's bedroom.

"Harry, you look like your face had a party with a few bludgers," George joked, trying to sound light about it but unable to when looking at the livid bruises on his Seeker's face.

"Mum and Dad fixed your tooth," was all Hermione could say before furious screaming was heard from the living room.

"Sirius must be here," winced Ron.

"Padfoot's here?!" Despite the bruises and scorching pain, harry maintained his smile when his godfather burst into the room, a lust for blood radiating from his eyes. Harry ignored it. "Sirius! Wow, you look great! No more caves?" Harry asked, taking in the fugitive's healthy stance.

"Harry, what happened to you?" Sirius asked, his voice torn between rage, concern, and overwhelming regret for not being there for his godson.

"Why does everyone keep asking that?"

"Harry!" exclaimed Ron, worried his friend's brain had taken a beating too. "Can you fell those bruises on your face? Because we can sure see them."

"Oh." Realization. "Oh, that," Harry answered, relieved that they hadn't been upset about the party after all.

"Oh that???" screamed Sirius, making Harry flinch, cover his face, get ready to beg. Instead he felt a gentle, shaking hand brush his. "Harry, I'd never hurt you. Just tell me who did this," he growled, even more angry upon seeing his brave boy cowering before him.

"You can't get into trouble over this, Sirius," Harry pleaded, knowing his godfather's temper.

"The hell I ca-"

"No, Harry's right," scolded Hermione. "He can't live there anymore, so you'll have to stay calm and work on clearing your name so you can save Harry from -."

"Why does everyone thing I need fucking saving?" Harry snapped, effectively silencing everyone in the room, even Ginny Weasley, who had been sobbing in the corner. No one had ever heard such language, such bitterness from Harry Potter. And Harry, seeing their reaction, felt like he'd disappointed everyone yet again. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not daring to look up into their eyes.

"Harry, we need to take you to the hospital," said Mrs. Weasley, knowing better than to scold Harry for apologizing.

"No!" Harry shouted, sitting up straight and eliciting a loud CRACK from one of his fractured ribs, now decidedly broken. But Harry didn't notice. "No hospital," he insisted, giving in to Mr. Weasley's order to lie down.

"But Harry," Hermione began.

"I don't want anyone else to see me like this," Harry begged. Sirius nodded, anything to make Harry stop pleading.

"We'll have to check you over," Mr. Weasley said, glancing awkwardly at Harry's visible wounds.

"Can some of you leave then?" Harry asked, not really wanting anyone to see the things beneath the shirt. _They'll all hate me for this._

Hermione and Ron insisted on staying but Ginny, Hermione's parents and the twins moved to the door, Mr. Weasley pulling Fred aside and telling him to firecall Albus Dumbledore and to keep whatever guests that had arrived in the backyard by the swimming pool.

Once the bedroom was less crowded, Harry braced himself and peeled off his shirt, closing his eyes so he could only hear the reactions, the scattered gasps of repulsion. Bruises, belt lashes, burns and…

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"That" was a shoddily stitched line running the length of Harry's wrist. That was a failed attempt to find his parents and peace. But Harry knew how to lie. "He was showing off a new knife." They accepted it, and if they didn't, they kept quiet for then.

"Why?" Sirius choked out.

"He didn't give a reason."

"No, why didn't you…"

"I don't know. I couldn't." This was the truth. Harry couldn't.

Just then, Dumbledore walked in, his blue eyes glittered with concern, his face taut with rage. He went up to Harry, his eyes sweeping over his torso, lingering perhaps on the cut on his wrist, Mr. Weasley whispering something into his ear.

"Harry," began Dumbledore, with a tone softer than anyone else had managed, "drink this, it'll take away the physical pain." He knew that pain was trivial compared to the rest Harry was suffering. "I'm afraid I have to leave the injuries unhealed for a moment, proof against your uncle. Now, I have a mediwizard and a Ministry official waiting outside." Sirius immediately transformed into Padfoot, jumping onto the foot of the bed to be closer to Harry. "They're going to ask you a few questions, take some pictures. Just be as honest as you can with them and they'll take care of everything." Once the five wizards and one disgruntled dog left the room, two men came in, looking remarkable like Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Holmes immediately magicked Harry's pants off and levitated him above the bed, snapping photgraphs of every mark on his body (_at least he left me my boxers_). Once that highly painful and embarrassing procedure was over, Harry was replaced on the bed and Holmes began shooting out questions as Watson hovered over his injuries, whispering spells and tutting over every bruise.

"How long?" A few weeks.

"Any time before this summer?" Only a slap now and again.

"Any type of abuse other than this?" Well, he yelled…

"Did he ever…" No! Definitely not!

"Does he have a history of this with anyone else in the family?" No.

"Any arrests?" No.

"Did you ever hit back?" No.

"Did you ever use magic against him?" No.

"And you do want to press charges?" Harry had to think about this. How much did he hate his Uncle Vernon? If Harry had been a normal boy, would things have worked out differently? Wasn't this Harry's fault?

"No."

"Excuse me?" Holmes barked, and Watson was listening as well.

"Will you be able to get me out of there, even if I don't press charges?"

"Of course, but – "

"Then do it. As long as I don't have to see him again, I could care less if he is punished for this. He'd never mistreat his real family, if that's what you're worried about."

Holmes was about to argue, but Dumbledore knocked at the door, characteristically knowing what was going on within. "Are you finished here, gentlemen?" he asked. Once the mediwizard made a final sweep of Harry's frame, the left the room, and Harry was left with another scar that wouldn't heal and several bruises, considerably lighter than they had been. Harry was told to stay in bed, but he could hear laughter from outside. The party! _Why not, I feel fine._ Testing his theory, Harry jumped out of bed. No cracks. So he walked to the bedroom window, which overlooked the front drive. _They must be out back_. He could hear Sirius and Dumbledore talking in the living room, meaning the ministry people must have apparated out already. Not wanting to plead his case with an over-protective godfather, Harry silently opened the window, climbed out, jumping over a flowerbed, and ran back around the house. Peeking past the fence, and over a large pile of presents, Harry could see all the Weasleys, minus Percy, the boys from his dorm, Hagrid, Remus Lupin, and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, including ex-captain Oliver Wood, now keeper for the Montrose Magpies. Most of the people were playing a game of Catch the Kelpie in the pool, but Lupin, Hermione and the Weasleys were brooding near the picnic table, casting glances back at the house. Desperately wanting to join the fun and relieve their worries, Harry went through the gate, prepared to sneak up on his friends but being thwarted by a tidal wave splash from the swimming pool.

"Sorry," laughed Seamus Finnigan, who then realized that he was staring at a very soggy Harry Potter. "Harry! Happy Birthday! Where've you been…eww, what happened to your face?"

"Oh, it had a party with a few bludgers, but I'm fine now."

****

Next time: finale, Harry finds a new home, addresses some issues, and somebody gets even with Vernon Dursley! 


	2. 

Peace, II

Peace, II

_My ribs, God, can't he kick somewhere else? Can't he hit just a bit harder, so hard that I can't feel anything anymore? There, that's more like it, pounding my chest, back, face. My face. Are there any bones left? There's nothing. I have no face. Maybe he beat the bloody scar off my forehead. Then I wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again. Please, just kick harder, let me see my mum and Dad. Wait. Not yet. I have people waiting for me. Please, stop shaking me! _"Please, don't!" Harry Potter yelled, tossing out of his sheets and curling himself up against the headboard, slapping away the hand that had been gently shaking him, trying to rouse the boy from his nightmare.

"Harry, it's me, you're safe," whispered Remus Lupin, while Sirius Black remained in the corner of the room, terrified by the fear in his godson's voice. Such fear always brought Sirius back to Azkaban, or further, back to Godric's Hollow, one Halloween night when everything he had ever known had been taken from him. Sirius was shook out of his memories when he heard Harry whimper, "God, I'm bleeding. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, Harry, it's only a nose bleed. Here," comforted Remus, handing the boy a tissue as he sat at the edge of the bed, rubbing Harry's back to stop the mounting sobs.

"I'm so sorry, I'm ruining everything." Harry was staring at the spot of blood he had spilt on Lupin's bed sheets. It was two weeks since his birthday, since he had left the Dursleys house. For a time, Harry stayed with Hermione and her parents, but they had plans to visit family abroad and Harry was forbidden to leave the country while his custody battle was still before the court. Then Harry had gone to the Weasleys, but they could not keep him long, certainly not forever. Though loving enough to provide the best home Harry could ever hope for, the painful truth was that they could barely afford their own children and would never be allowed to gain custody of The Harry Potter. So Harry found himself at the home of Remus Lupin, which was also the home of fugitive Sirius Black. And all of them knew that this too was fleeting. Who would allow Harry to stay with a werewolf? Unless a solution presented itself soon, Harry would find himself ward of the state.

"Nonsense, Harry," answered Sirius, also joining him on the bed. "You've made everything better, at least for me."

"What time is it?" Harry asked, not wanting to voice his doubt about that statement. 

"Nearly nine," answered Lupin, summoning a tray of biscuits and pumpkin juice. "There's been a development in the proceedings that you need to know about." Harry could see the anxiety on Lupin's face, the kind of worry that comes when someone doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news.

"They can't get me out of there?" Harry asked, voicing his immediate concern. He'd rather live in an orphanage, or even with Severus Snape (but maybe not Malfoy), than live with his uncle.

"Harry, your uncle wants to retain custody," snarled Sirius.

"But that's not possible! He hates me!"

"You're probably right, but he somehow found out about your inheritance so…"

"So he wants me around so he can get control of my parents' money," Harry finished.

"Yes," answered Remus, who was just as revolted at the idea of Vernon Dursley touching anything that once belonged to James, including Harry himself.

"There has to be some way out of this?" Harry pleaded, the scar on his wrist throbbing more with each passing second, telling him to get the knife ready if he ever found himself on Privet Drive again.

"Dumbledore has a banister working on sealing off your Gringotts account until you're eighteen, to get rid of Dursley's temptation, but the problem is you won't be able to touch a single knut of it until then either, and you'd be stuck for school supplies," grumbled Sirius, furious at himself for not being the man James and Lily had asked him to be when they named him Harry's godfather.

"Doesn't what he did to me count for anything?" Harry asked, no longer hiding the fact that he kept rubbing his wrist, and this worried Remus to no end. No one had questioned Harry about this injury, but he, Sirius, the Weasleys and Dumbledore were in agreement that they had to watch Harry for the signs.

"It counts, Harry," Remus answered, "but with your insistence that we keep the matter away from Muggle authorities, there seems to them to be no reason for the Dursleys to give you up."

"I'll do it then."

"Do what?" asked Sirius, also noticing Harry's obsession with the cut on his wrist.

"I'll go back," Harry whispered, too tired to fight it any longer. At least when he was being beaten, he didn't have to put up with abuse in his dreams. No, only visions of his parents and Cedric and red eyes met him there. And a different level of pain.

"No!" yelled Remus, shocking Sirius and Harry with his emotional outburst. Lupin so often strove to maintain his control, to prove that he was only a wolf during the full moon. But things like this made his blood boil. "Harry, just say the word and the bastard will go to jail. There's no reason to protect him, Harry. He never protected you. And if you don't do it, I swear to God, I'll kill him before I see you back at that house." Seeing Remus Lupin like this, eyes ablaze, was more frightening than any transformed werewolf could ever be. 

"Please, don't talk like that. I don't want anyone getting hurt over me, especially either of you," whispered Harry, again leaning on his acting skills to keep himself from changing his mind. This had to end. He couldn't let these people worry about him for another day, not when there was a monster worse than Vernon Dursley out there with a much grander plan for pain in mind. "In a few weeks I'll be back at Hogwarts, and everything will be fine. And maybe we'll work something out about the summer. Can't you just let me go?"

"We'll never let you go," answered Sirius, grabbing Harry's hand away from his wrist. "Ever."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," Harry answered defiantly. 

"He could hit you again."

"I can take it."

"Maybe that's what we're afraid of," answered Lupin.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe Vernon Dursley's not the only one that wouldn't mind seeing you dead," answered Sirius.

"Well, that's obvious. Vol-"

"I don't mean him."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"Harry, what happened to your wrist?"

"I told you, he cut me with his hunting knife."

"You said it was a razor."

"Yes, that's what I meant."

"Actually, you said it was a knife."

"What the bloody hell does it matter?!" Harry screamed, knowing they knew and knowing how weak it made him feel. Why did they want to save him? He was no good to anybody.

"IT FUCKING MATTERS!" Sirius bellowed. "YOU MATTER!" He couldn't lose Harry, not now. Not like this.

"Sirius-" Remus cautioned, worried that the whole thing was about to explode in his guestroom. Of course, it did.

"What is it that you want to hear Sirius?" yelled Harry, not for anger at his godfather but at himself for not being able to lie one more time. "That I did this? Well I fucking did! I did it all! I got my parents killed! I got Cedric killed! I helped Voldemort come back! I got myself beat up because I lived! And I gave myself this scar! And now I just want to go home, because that's what I deserve!" Before either of them could stop him, Harry ran into the living room, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fire and shouted "Number Four, Privet Drive" with as much clarity as he could muster.

Harry should have worried if the house was still on the Floo network. He should have worried about leaving his wand and clothes back at Lupin's house. But all he could think about was the constant of Vernon Dursley's fist, and that thought alone got him back to Privet Drive in one piece. Staggering through the remodeled fire place, Harry was met with the stony stare of his uncle, who had been reading the paper at the kitchen table when he heard the commotion in the next room.

"So, you've come back?" he sneered. "Why didn't you mention you had a whole vault of gold? Slip your mind?"

Harry was afraid, but at the same time he was beyond begging. He had an answer waiting for him, under the floorboard of his room, with a backup in the cupboard under the stairs if it came to that. A lasting gift from Professor Snape, this knowledge of poisons that Harry had. True, poisons were Dark Arts, things not taught at Hogwarts. But it wasn't too difficult to figure them out. You learn and anecdote, a basic knowledge of each ingredient, and all you have to do is work backwards. Harry had done this shortly after he slit his wrist and realized that he was too afraid to go further. With a poison, you only need one shot. Then you never need anything again.

These thoughts gave Harry something close to courage, thinking that everything in the next few hours, maybe even shorter than that, was his last. He could survive one last beating, and if not, did it matter? "I don't see how you can be surprised. You know I have to pay for school supplies," Harry answered, a grim smile spreading across his face when he saw the vain in Vernon's neck expand. 

"Go to your room," his uncle snarled. Vernon had been advised to keep his hands off the boy if he until the custody issue was settled, or he'd never see a glimpse of that money.

"Aren't you going to hit me, you fat fuck?" Harry goaded. Now that he saw an end ahead of him, Harry kind of wanted this lasting memory of Vernon Dursley, screwed out of the Potter fortune and heading for Hell.

"I will if you speak to me that way again, you bastard. Now get up those stairs or I'll drag you up myself."

"Not only are you a fat fuck, but you're cheap too. And ordinary and working class. And your wife's a horse and your son's a pig and everyone in the neighborhood but you knows it," Harry whispered, just waiting for the blow to come. And it did. First Harry's nose was broken, along with his jaw. Then came the ribs, the kick to the groin, maybe a broken leg, but Harry was beyond caring, beyond feeling even, as he was dragged up the stairs and thrown into his room. Once Dursley had gone to change his bloodied shirt, Harry closed the door, locked it, and dragged himself over to his hiding spot. Prying open the board, he extracted a shimmering vile of azure draught, something that should take him to his parents within minutes if he had brewed it correctly. He pondered holding out, writing a note of some sort to Ron, Hermione, and the rest. But they would know why. And they would now how. Maybe they wouldn't understand the who; the Harry they remembered would never do something like this. Not when there were other battles to be fought, other birthdays and holidays to be celebrated, other secret passages to explore and other dances to attend. Harry thought about writing a note, telling them that Harry Potter had been killed in the Third Task like he was supposed to be. It only took him this long to die. But his quill was too far away, his fresh injuries were starting to sting again. So he opened the bottle and drank to his parents, hoping he could see them again, even if he had done this to himself.

Downstairs, Vernon Dursley was coming face to face with Remus Lupin. The moment he realized that Harry had Floo-ed over to the Dursleys, Remus stunned Sirius and followed after Harry. He knew that his old friend Padfoot would be furious when he came around, but Remus refused to lose him again when he was this close to regaining the life he should have had. Sirius couldn't risk getting caught beating a Muggle to a pulp. But Remus Lupin, already ostracized from the wizarding world for being a monster and lacking a criminal record, could risk it. But first, he needed to see if Harry was ok.

"Where is he Dursley?" Lupin bellowed, giving in to the animalistic urge to punch the man, if only once. 

"Up the stairs," Dursley whispered. No problem fighting a young boy, but a blubbering mass when faced with a full-grown wizard. Lupin rushed up the stairs, knocking down doors until he found Harry lying on the floor, bleeding again and broken perhaps forever. So enraged by this scene and his own inability to keep this wonderful human being safe, he only used his keen senses to hear that Harry was still breathing before he rushed back down the stairs, threw down his wand to keep himself from using magic against a Muggle, and proceeded to pummel Mr. Vernon Dursley with every ounce of his strength. Before long, there were enough bruises on the man to match every mark, every cruel word even, that he had inflicted upon Harry. Lupin could have kept going, could have torn the man apart with his bare hands, if it weren't for a strange gasp he heard from upstairs. _Harry!_

_I didn't see the bottle! Why hadn't I looked closer? There might still have been some time…God, what have I done? But he can't be dead! He's not even cold…he's not even cold? Snape! Snape will know what to do!_ Remus scooped Harry up into his arms, grabbed the vile that the boy was clutching, and carried him down to the fireplace, throwing in some Floo powder he had taken with him. "Severus Snape!"

Snape had stayed at Hogwarts for the summer, a position demanded of him by both Headmaster Dumbledore and Voldemort, who had welcomed him back into the fold after a long Cruciatus Curse and an assurance that any doubt of Snape's loyalty would result in something much worse. Of course, Snape's loyalty lay with Albus Dumbledore, and that never wavered. Even when Remus Lupin carried that damned Potter boy into his room by way of the fireplace. Snape was about to make a snide comment about manners and knocking and even the state the two were in until he noticed the state they _were_ in. Harry Potter looked dead.

"Please, help me Severus!" Remus cried, carrying Harry over to the sofa and shoving the vile into the Potions Master's hand. "He drank this, I don't know what it is, please, god, help him…" Lupin went on rambling, oblivious to his loss of control until Snape shook him hard by the shoulders.

"Remus, what happened?" he asked. He was already going through a list of all potions with this smell, all poisons with this symptom, all lessons he had taught last term, not going back too far because Potter wasn't the most adept Potions student in the world. But he needed Lupin calm in case he needed to brew an anecdote (if the boy wasn't too far gone, that is) and the best way to keep the man calm was to ask him simple questions. He wasn't prepared, however, for how complicated the answer would be.

"I don't know how informed you are, but Harry's uncle beat him. We've been trying to get Harry away from them for good, but Harry didn't want to press charges. He lost his temper, said he had tried to kill himself before and that he deserved whatever he got and he Floo-ed over there and he must have gotten beat again and then took that. And I stunned Sirius and followed."

While sorting through this new information, and grinning when he heard about Black, Snape had narrowed down the possible poisons to three and was busy pouring all sorts of potions down Harry's throat. "You're bleeding you know," he observed, taking in Lupin's appearance. 

"It's not mine. It's his uncle's. Or it's his. Or maybe it's mine, I don't know. What are you doing with Harry?"

"I think he tried to make Azure Draught, twisting the anecdote I taught them last term. But he must have left something out. How long before you found him do you think he drank it?"

"Couldn't have been more than three minutes, but after I first saw him I didn't realize what he'd done. I went back downstairs to see to his uncle."

"Did you notice if he was shaking at all?" 

"No, he was lying still on the floor save for shallow breathing."

"He must have left out the Erumpent Horn, or he would have been convulsing still when you found him."

"Is he dead? Can you stop the poison?"

"He's not dead yet, but I don't know about your second question. The poison he's created may be worse than what he even intended. But I have a cure in mind and it'll take all my concentration to brew it. Please leave."

"Now listen! I'm-"

"Remus, listen to me, please! I know what I'm doing and nothing you can say or do will help Potter more than I can. By what you've told me, you have a few things to see to. Go get Sirius, bring him back here and then see to that Muggle before you find yourself in Azkaban for something that shouldn't be a crime. Maybe, by the time you're back, Harry will be out of danger."

_"Harry! God, Harry! We've missed you so much! We thought we'd have to wait forever to be with you again!"_

"Mum? Dad?"

"Harry! You're here!"

"Mum! Dad! I was worried I wouldn't find you!"

"Why wouldn't you find us?"

"Wait, why are you here already? You're supposed to be alive. Has it been so long already?"

"No, I've just come early. I really missed you."

"Son, what have you done?"

"Nothing! I didn't do it! I'm just glad to see you is all."

"Then why were you worried you wouldn't see us again?"

"I don't know. But can't we forget about that. I'm here now, I'm not leaving. And I'm not letting you go."

"Harry, you can't stay here. This isn't right. You weren't supposed to be here until…this isn't right! You can't stay here!"

"Dad, I want this. Please! Mum! Don't send me back. Everyone sends me back!"

"Harry, we want to be with you too. But not like this. You don't belong here."

"I don't belong there either."

"Sirius is there. Remus is there. Dumbledore is there. And we know you have friends; we've been watching from time to time. How could you not belong?"

"It's not mine anymore. It was someone else's. He's gone now and I don't belong! Please, I want to stay with you."

"You can't. We love you, but you can't."

"But I'm already here! You can't send me back. Nobody can go back!"

"You can. They're coming for you, Harry. We love you, but we know when you're coming home to us. Not yet. Not today."

"Mum! Dad! Please!"

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, saw the dark figured shrouded, smelled the air, and knew he was in the Hospital wing of Hogwarts, and that he had failed. He failed so many things, so many people, he really shouldn't be surprised. Someone was holding his hand…peering out the curtain without really moving, he saw it was Professor Snape. Nothing surprised him, not after the conversation he had just had. He was so close. He could nearly _taste_ the life he longed to have. Maybe he should blame Snape for taking that away from him, but what good would blame do? He'd either be sent back to the Dursleys, to an orphanage, or to St. Mungo's if he refused to realize that his parents were right; Harry didn't belong in Heaven. He belonged right here, with people who would fight for him no matter what. And he should fight for them no matter what. Harry would die to protect everyone in this room, for he saw the shapes of Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore and Molly Weasley just beyond the curtains. But how could he get the chance to protect them if he was busy trying to kill himself? No, they deserved more than that. They deserved him being there, and, for the first time in weeks, Harry thought he deserved it too.

Slipping his hand out of Snape's, Harry gingerly sat up, noticing that his newest wounds hadn't been healed. He was glad. He wanted to live with them for a while. He needed to take his time this time, to realize what every bruise and cut and broken bone meant. They meant that Vernon Dursley was a weak person, not Harry. They meant that Vernon Dursley belonged in jail. They meant that he was alive.

Harry slipped out of bed, noting the exhaustion and worry on everyone's face as they slept. Looking out the window, he could see the day had passed, if not several. The quarter moon shone brightly, casting a ethereal glow as it was reflected in the lake. "I'm sorry," Harry whispered to them all as he squeezed out the door and headed down the hall.

When Snape awoke, his hand felt eerily cold. After pulling open the curtains and seeing that Harry was not there, Snape went up to Remus, shaking his shoulders to wake him up. "What is it?" Remus asked groggily, rubbing the dreams out of his eyes.

"Lupin, Harry's gone," whispered Snape. Suddenly he found himself locked in a tight embrace, Lupin burying his head in Snape's robes, crying into them, crying "No, not Harry, not Harry too." 

"Lupin, he's not dead," Snape broke in, tallying another wasted tease in his mind. He'd have to be horrible for a straight month to make up for the decency he's shown in the past two days. "He's not in his bed. Hence, Harry's gone." By now, the others had woken up, and Sirius had transformed and trotted down the hall, trying to pick up Harry's scent. The fear in everyone's mind was plainly translated on their face as they followed Black down the hall, hoping against hope that the path would not lead to their friend's death scene. Bounding up the stairs to the Astronomy tower, Molly Weasley began to cry. "Why can't we make him stay, Albus?" she asked over and over again.

Sirius had transformed back into a man as he kicked down the door that led to the observation deck. "Harry! Harry! Don't do it!" were the cries from behind him as Sirius rushed to look over the side of the balcony, half closing his eyes as he willed for there to be no body. There wasn't. 

"I'm not down there, Sirius," Harry called, sending his godfather wheeling about to find Harry's voice. There, against the wall farthest from the door, sat Harry.

"Harry! Thank God!" Sirius exclaimed rushing to kneel before the boy and envelope him in a tight embrace.

"Ow!" whispered Harry, not able to put on such a brave face when his godfather was squeezing some of his broken ribs.

"Sorry," grinned Sirius, relief spreading across his face.

"What are you doing up here, Harry?" asked Lupin after he caught his breath and stopped his heart from exploding.

"You all were sleeping when I woke up and I was too hungry to wait for morning. Dobby gave me this basket of food and I decided to take it up here. For the view."

"Come, Harry," said Dumbledore, the twinkle in his eyes nearly extinct. "We must let Madam Pomfrey heal you now that the poison is out of your system."

"I don't think that's necessary," replied Harry, casually offering one of his scones to Professor Snape, who look decidedly pale at that moment. Forgetting who he was and where he was, Snape accepted.

"Harry, you need to get better! No more of this death wish!" yelled Sirius, shaking his godson's shoulders despite the boy's injuries. He had to make him understand how much he needed him. 

"Sirius, that's enough," warned Lupin, pulling his friend back. Last time Sirius had snapped at Harry…

"No, he needs to understand! Harry, do you have any idea what you've done to me, to all of us? I don't think I could ever feel happiness again if you died. I don't think I could last very long if you died. None of us could, and not just because you are a great wizard but because you are a wonderful person. For me, you're all that is good in this world and for you to do that, it nearly broke my heart. Nearly killed me, Harry."

"I know," answered Harry. "I know and I'm sorry. I'm meant to live and I realize that. I realize why I need to live and why I _want_ to live. I just don't want Madam Pomfrey to wave her wand and make everything ok. I need more time than that. I need some time with these bruises so I can understand it all. That's all I meant. That's really all that I meant."

After Harry got some more rest, he was brought up to speed on the situation with Vernon Dursley. Since Remus hadn't used magic against him, the Ministry could care less how many bones he had broken. It was decided that Harry would remain at Hogwarts for the rest of the summer, save whatever time it took to testify against his uncle in court. Then, the next summer, Harry would live with the Grangers, although he would be the legal ward of Albus Dumbledore. And maybe, one day, he'd see his parents again and finally belong. But not today.


End file.
